


Black

by hunter_king



Series: Supernatural - Wincest [50]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Sam Winchester, Dubious Consent, M/M, Season/Series 09 Spoilers, Season/Series 10 Spoilers, Swearing, Top Dean Winchester, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-22 02:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22841194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunter_king/pseuds/hunter_king
Summary: Dean died and came back a demon, and Sam has spent the last few months trying to find his brother. So when Dean reveals himself in a bar and offers Sam a deal, there's nothing he can do but agree to his brother's terms.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural - Wincest [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1190095
Comments: 31
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Beat'd by jdl71  
> Artwork by leaf_zelindor [here](https://leaf-zelindor.livejournal.com/347902.html)  
> Written for the deanw_bigbang 2020  
> This is not a happy fic. Dean is dark, so if that's not your thing, this probably isn't your cup of tea.

He'd warned Sam to stay away. He'd warned him that since Metatron had rammed his blade through his chest, he was different. He'd warned him that he wasn't his brother anymore – not the one Sam had known for 30 years, anyway. Hell, there was nothing left of that man now – not since The Mark had burned it all away. Honestly, he wasn't even sure why Sam wanted anything to do with him.

But Sam just wouldn't leave him alone. Every day, he got a phone call. And every day, he ignored it. Today, Sam had even called Crowley, which had pissed the demon off. Again, not that Dean cared, but he was an annoying little shit when he got aggravated, which in turn irritated Dean. So apparently, Dean needed to be a little more firm with Sam – a letter just wasn't doing the trick, he supposed. 

Which is why Dean was at this damn dive bar tonight instead of with Crowley at the Black Spur. And it was karaoke night tonight, too, so Dean was especially irritated. Flipping his phone in his hand, Dean scanned the bar for the familiar face he was seeking out tonight. His sources had told him that Sam liked to frequent this place. This is where Sam found the demons he'd been torturing in his attempt to find Dean. Well, tonight, the younger man was going to be in for a real treat.

It took about three hours of waiting for Dean to get really annoyed. If that asshole had been lying to him, Dean was going to rip his spine out through his mouth. Actually, Dean might do that anyway – but at least he'd have a reason to if he'd lied. Dean had half a mind to leave – this place didn't do anything for him. Back in the day, he probably would have been having a blast. But right now, it felt like his skin was crawling. There were too many people here, and they were not giving him personal space.

A man drunkenly bumped into him, and it took all Dean had in him not to reach for his blade. If he started slaughtering people in here, he'd never find Sam. And then this whole night would have been for nothing. So, he kept his cool, just shooting the man an angry glare. 

Finally, everything was worth it. After what felt like forever, Dean spotted Sam walking through the door. Quickly, Dean pushed himself from his chair, stalking Sam with his eyes as he watched him walk through the bar. He looked like a man with a purpose – like he was meeting someone here. 

Of course, Dean wouldn't doubt it. Sam always had a plan, so he didn't think tonight would be any different. And after talking to Crowley, Sam was probably geared up – much like Crowley had been. After all, Dean knew what had been said between the two of them. He knew that Crowley had been taunting Sam – making Sam think he'd been replaced in Dean's mind. That could never happen.

He watched as Sam moved to the back of the bar, taking a seat at one of the booths tucked into the corner. There was a woman there – Dean knew her as Dar. She was one of Crowley's prized demons. And Dean knew she was undoubtedly feeding Sam some sort of fake information to get him all riled up again. Crowley was really good at that shit. 

The whole time Sam was chatting with Dar, Dean watched. He could see the exact moment that Sam started to get pissed off – that muscle in his jaw kept twitching like it did when Sam didn't like what he was hearing. _Fucking Crowley_. Dean could have stepped in, but he refrained. He wanted it to be a surprise to Sam when he finally revealed himself. After all, it wasn't like Dar could blow his cover – Crowley had no idea Dean was here right now.

Which reminded him, he should probably call the guy. Crowley had been calling him since Dean had stolen the car from the parking lot. But he couldn't risk losing Sam right now. If he was distracted for just a second, Sam could slip out of his grasp. And Dean wasn't interested in doing this another night this week. It had to be tonight. 

Seeing Sam again had sparked something inside of Dean. Not that brotherly feeling that he used to get when Sam was around, either. It was that feeling that he always shoved down so deep he could almost forget about it. Unless he was drunk or experiencing some severe blood loss – he'd always been really good at shoving his feelings far down so no one could see them.

But now, Dean just didn't care. Something had happened to him when he'd woken up after facing Metatron. The angel had been juiced up, and Dean just hadn't been able to take him. Another thing he was going to rectify when he had the chance. But he was sure Castiel and his little angel squad had scooped Metatron up already, so there was no way Dean was dealing with that any time soon.

This issue with Sam, though – _that_ he could handle right now. Well, as soon as Dar was done whispering lies in his ear. Dean needed a plan. Slowly, he moved toward the bar once more, not taking his eyes off Sam. First, he needed to get a little more drunk. 

**~~**

An hour later, Sam was finally finished talking to that demon whore. Honestly, Dean thought he was never going to leave her. He watched as Dar slinked out of the bar, a wide smirk on her lips. Fucking bitch. Crowley was going to lose his prized possession if he wasn't a little more careful with her. Dean's palm was already itching for his blade.

Seeing Sam walking toward the bar, Dean quickly moved away. He didn't want Sam to see him prematurely. That would really ruin his whole plan. And he'd worked so hard to come up with it. A wide smile came to his lips as he watched his brother take a seat and order Dean's usual drink. That was new. And a little strong for Sammy. But Dean couldn't blame him. Sam looked tired. The kid looked like he was barely hanging on by a thread. 

Dean needed to fix that. His whole life had been about protecting Sam. _Look out for your little brother, boy!_ John Winchester was always in his head back then. Hell, he'd been in his head right up until these past few months after the run-in with Metatron. Now, there was nothing in there dealing with family. Not really. Hell, he'd gone weeks without even thinking about Sam. But now that he was right here in front of him, Sam was all Dean could think about.

He watched as Sam downed his first drink, waving over the bartender for another. Oh no, that wasn't happening. Dean wasn't about to stand here and watch his little brother get drunk. Not that Sam wasn't fun when he was under the influence – he was actually hilarious – but tonight wasn't the time for that. Dean wanted Sam 100% rational and sober when he saw him after so long.

Before Sam had a chance to pick up his second drink, Dean was in his space. His strong, muscular arms bracketed Sam against the bar, Dean pressing his body up tightly against his little brother's. Sam instantly tensed, Dean knowing he was getting ready to throw punches if he needed to. But that wasn't going to be necessary. “I don't really think you need another one, Sammy,” Dean assured the younger man as he wrapped his fingers around the cool glass, moving it away from Sam.

Still keeping his brother trapped between himself and the bar, Dean leaned in further, pressing every inch of his chest to Sam's back. His lips were so close to Sam's ear, when he spoke, they brushed against the shell, sending a jolt of pleasure through Dean's whole body. “I heard you've been looking for me,” Dean whispered. Making a _tsk_ noise, Dean added, “I told you not to do that, Sammy.”

All of the blood in his body felt like it was rushing to his head, pounding in his ears. Sam had spent so many nights trying to find Dean since he'd disappeared, and now he was here – pressed up against Sam like some kind of slutty hooker looking for his next John. “Did you really think I was just going to let you leave?” Sam asked, scoffing. “You're my brother. I've made the mistake of leaving you before. I wasn't about to do it again.”

“Multiple times, if memory serves,” Dean jabbed, feeling the sting of those memories like it had just been yesterday. Stanford. Leaving him on the side of the road when things got tough during that scarecrow hunt. Running off with Ruby when Dean had gone to Hell _for Sam_. Purgatory. Leaving Dean seemed to be Sam's thing. When something got a little tough, Sam's plan was just to tuck tail and run. “Why should now be any different?”

It cut like a knife when Dean spoke, reminding Sam of all the wrong he'd done in Dean's eyes over the years. Not that he could blame Dean – Sam's go to was to run away. He'd always done it – abandoned his family, is what Dean called it during a fight once. “You're in trouble,” Sam answered. “I couldn't just leave you out there with Crowley.”

A small chuckle escaped Dean when Sam told him he was in trouble. “I'm fine, Sammy,” Dean assured the younger Winchester. Pushing away from the bar, Dean took a seat next to Sam, making sure their knees knocked together when he turned to face the younger man. “Crowley isn't forcing me to do anything. I left on my own. _Willingly_. And I told you that I wanted to be left alone.”

Sam released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when Dean pulled away from him. “That's not going to happen,” Sam hissed at Dean's words, brows knit angrily. “I know what happened to you when Metatron—” Sam's sentence was cut short, the younger Winchester unable to say the words out loud. Swallowing around the knot in his throat, Sam continued, “I know what you are now. And I'm not letting you go through this alone, Dean. I can help you. Let me help you. Please?”

Good little Sammy, always looking to help. But Dean didn't want help. Dean knew what he was, and he knew what he was doing. He _liked_ it. The lack of responsibility was nice for a change. He didn't have to listen to anyone anymore – and he didn't feel bad about it. “How are you going to help me, Sam?” Dean asked, leaning in close once more. “The mark is stronger than me. So it's definitely stronger than you. Do you honestly think you can _save_ me from it Sam? You've been trying for over a year, and you've failed.”

While everything Dean was saying was true, it still hurt. Sam had been doing his research. He knew what he was doing now. And he wasn't about to let himself fail. Not again – it wasn't an option. Not when his brother was a demon – the very thing they'd spent their entire lives trying to rid the Earth of. “This is different,” Sam argued. “I can help you. I've been doing my research, Dean. I can make you human again. Please, let me help you.”

He loved hearing Sam beg. It was like music to his ears. “What if I like it?” Dean asked, eyes locked on Sam's. The war of emotion in Sam's eyes was intriguing to watch. “Maybe I like not having rules. Maybe I like not having to worry about what other people think all of the time.” Leaning in just a bit closer, Dean lowered his voice to a whisper, making sure only Sam could hear him. “Maybe I like not having to pretend that I don't want what I want.”

Again, Sam's breath hitched in his throat. Surely, there was no way Dean wanted to stay a demon. This was all the mark talking. His brother would never say things like this. “Dean, you don't mean that,” Sam assured his brother. “You don't mean any of that. You're just confused. This is just the mark talking, Dean. Please...let me help you. That ritual that we did on Crowley – it almost worked. I almost had him human again. We can do that. I'll give you my blood.”

“Or you almost killed Crowley,” Dean snapped back, wanting to put doubt in Sam's mind. “How do you know? Ever since those damn tablets came into our lives, Sammy, they've been nothing but trouble. We've lost people over them – good people. And you're willing to just believe them?! Are you willing to risk me, Sammy?”

This was a trick – Sam had to believe that. The tablets were the word of God. And he had to believe that God was on their side. Even with all of the shit they'd dealt with in their lives, God had to be rooting for them. He just had to be. And if his word said how to turn a demon back into its human form, Sam was going to believe it. “Dean, please just let me try. I need you back. I can't keep living like this. Please?”

There Sam went again _begging_. Damn, it was so soothing. Sam wanted Dean back? Well, he could have him, he supposed. After all, Dean was getting really annoyed with Crowley these days. All he wanted to do was run off back to Hell. Dean wanted to stay here and raise a little Hell of his own. Maybe Sam could help with that. 

Lifting the whiskey glass, Dean downed the drink Sam had ordered in one go. “You wanna help me?” Dean asked then, loving the way Sam's face lit up at the idea. “Fine. But I have some stipulations.” He knew Sam – he knew him better than Sam even knew himself, he was sure. Dean knew that Sam was going to have something up his sleeve to try to get Dean to be as compliant as possible, and there was _no way_ Dean was letting that happen. 

Sam was going to need a drink for this. But he wanted Dean back with him where he knew he was safe, so there probably wasn't much he wouldn't agree to. “Okay?” he started, biting into his bottom lip. “What did you have in mind?”

Oh, there were so many things Dean had in mind when it came to Sam right now. “No tying me up,” Dean started, knowing that if he gave up that control to Sam, he wouldn't get anything done. “And no treatments unless I say so. I'm coming with you on my own, so I think you owe that to me.”

While Dean had a point, Sam wasn't sure this was sitting well with him. He wanted to have some semblance of control. He wanted to be able to feel safe around Dean. And right now, he didn't. There was something in his eyes that was making Sam feel very uncomfortable and uneasy. But he knew he wasn't going to get Dean back any other way. “Fine,” Sam finally answered, another jolt running through his body at the idea of getting Dean back.

When Sam agreed to his stipulations, Dean smiled widely. “Alright then Sammy,” he chuckled, pushing himself out of his chair. “Let's hit the road then.” As he walked out of the bar, Dean couldn't wipe the smirk off his lips. He was about to have Sam all to himself again, which was exactly what he wanted. Of course, he had no intentions of letting Sam _cure_ him, but Sam didn't have to know that. He'd get over it eventually.

Once they were outside, Sam held up the keys for Dean. “Hey, you wanna drive?” he asked, figuring that after so many months of not having his baby, Dean would jump on the idea. However, when Dean gave Sam a disgusted look and shook his head, Sam felt ice run through his body. Dean _loved_ this car. That was just one more thing that made Sam want so desperately to fix Dean.

But he wasn't going to bring that up right now. He knew he was going to have to choose his battles wisely right now when it came to Dean. And until he had his brother back fully, Sam wasn't about to start fights over stupid things. Instead, he climbed behind the wheel and headed toward the bunker. They had a lot of work to do. And Sam was eager to get started.

**~~**

Back at the bunker, Sam wanted to get to work right away. He had a room set up for Dean already, though now he didn't think the older Winchester would want to use it. After all, Dean had been adamant about not being bound. Sam wasn't sure if a Devil's Trap was going to be allowed. And he'd agreed to let Dean take the lead here – he did owe it to his brother since he'd come here on his own and agreed to let Sam help him. 

Moving toward the room, Sam turned to look at Dean before he opened the door. “There's a Devil's Trap in here,” Sam explained, wanting to be completely transparent with his brother. “I know you said that you didn't want to be tied up, but Dean, I think it'll be a good idea for you to be in there when we do the treatments. I mean, from what I saw with Crowley, this might hurt. And I don't want you to hurt anyone.”

Devil's Traps were not part of the deal. Dean wasn't about to step into that. “Sammy, it's just you and me,” Dean reminded. “I'd never hurt you.” Even as a demon, that was true. There was still this part of him inside telling him that he couldn't hurt Sam. At least not physically, anyway. He'd made plenty of jabs at Sam's emotional state. But to actually physically harm his brother? Dean wouldn't dream of it. 

Although Dean wasn't himself, something inside Sam knew that he wasn't lying. They'd fought in the past, sure, but neither of them had actually hurt each other too badly. There had been punches thrown and shit, but never anything too serious. “I know you wouldn't,” Sam assured Dean with a nod. “I just was worried that you might hurt yourself, that's all. I mean, I'd let you out right away. I promise.”

“I'm not getting into that thing,” Dean argued. “So you don't have to promise anything.” Pushing past Sam, Dean moved further into the bunker, having no intentions of going into that room for any reason. He wanted to check out his bedroom. “Is my room still the same? I swear Sammy, if you moved any of my stuff, I'm gonna be pissed.”

Sam didn't understand what Dean was doing. They needed to get started. Quickly, Sam followed after Dean, rolling his eyes at his brother's comment. “Dean, I didn't touch anything,” he assured the older Winchester. “What are you doing? Don't you think we should get started? Dean?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean pushed his bedroom door open, pleased to see that it was exactly how he'd left it. Not that he thought Sam would ever move his things. “Sammy, we will get started. All in good time.” Turning his attention to Sam, Dean smiled at the annoyed look on the younger Winchester's lips. “Let's eat first. I'm starving, Sammy.”


	2. Chapter Two

Sam frowned as he watched his brother toss back another beer. They'd had dinner, and Sam even enjoyed a drink with Dean after dinner, and now he was ready to get started. But for some reason, Dean wasn't acting like this was important. “Dean, can we get started?” Sam finally asked, pushing his empty beer bottle away from him. “You said we could do this. Don't you think it's a pressing matter?”

A deep frown came to Dean's lips when Sam spoke. As if sharing a meal with him and sharing a beer with him was some kind of nuisance. “I told you, no treatments until I said so,” Dean reminded. “And I don't want to do it right now. Sammy, it's been months since I've seen you. Can I just...have a minute with you?”

When Dean put it that way, it kind of made Sam feel like an asshole for saying anything. But he didn't want to have a minute with this Dean. He wanted his brother – the _real_ Dean Winchester. “Dean, you and I are going to have plenty of minutes together. When you're better.” Shaking his head, Sam added, “I just...I don't understand why you're putting this off. Don't you want to get better? I know you don't want to be a demon forever, Dean.”

Honestly, Dean didn't see what was so wrong with being a demon. “Sammy, come on,” Dean complained, pushing his own beer into the middle of the table. “You can't tell me you don't want to just relax with me for a little while. You haven't seen me in months! Don't you want to just...sit here with me and talk?”

Talk? Another thing that made it blatantly obvious that this person in front of him wasn't his brother. “Really?” Sam asked, obviously annoyed. “You want to talk? _You?_ ” When Dean nodded, Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. “You _never_ want to talk? And now all of a sudden you do? That doesn't make any sense. You're stalling!”

Anger was quickly replacing his docile mood, his skin itching for his blade again. But he fought it just like he always did – the plan hadn't been to kill Sam when he found him in that bar. No, Dean wanted something far better than a dead Sam Winchester. “Sammy, you agreed to this. We do the treatments when _I_ want to, or we don't do them at all! Understood?!”

Now, Sam was getting angry. “Dean, when I agreed to this, you made it sound like we were actually going to do something about your current situation! You made it sound like you _wanted_ to get better! But now, you're making excuses and trying to stall, and I just...I want my fucking brother back!”

“Dammit, Sam!” Dean boomed, eyes bleeding to black as he pushed himself out of his chair, looming over his brother. “Are you _trying_ to piss me off?! Don't you know what happens to me now when I get pissed off?” Of course Sam didn't – Dean had left before it could happen. “My skin...feels _hot_ , Sammy! And it takes everything I have in me not to reach for my blade. So, if you don't mind, can we just...relax for a minute?!”

Seeing Dean's eyes bleed to black made Sam feel sick. He could barely focus on what Dean was saying because all he could think about were those black eyes that felt like they were staring right through him. “Please, Dean?” Sam almost whispered, feeling tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. “I can't...just sit here with you like this and not do anything. I've been trying for months to find you so that I could fix you. And now you're here...and you won't let me.”

He could see the emotions warring inside Sam, and Dean had to admit, he liked it. But he figured that he had to give Sam something before the younger Winchester decided to back out on their deal. “You wanna fix me?” Dean asked, slowly moving toward his little brother. “You wanna inject me with your blood and make me human again, Sammy?” He smirked when Sam scooted back once he'd gotten too close for comfort. “Even if it kills me?”

Sam's breath hitched in his throat when Dean mentioned this could kill him. Honestly, Sam had to wonder if he'd rather have his brother alive as a demon, or just mourn his death? Because this _wasn't_ Dean. And Sam knew his brother wouldn't want to live life as a demon. “I'm not gonna kill you, Dean,” Sam assured the older man, feeling confident that this cure wasn't a death sentence. 

His brother sounded pretty damn confident. “Alright,” Dean finally smirked, moving closer into Sam's personal space. “Do it, Sammy. Shoot me up.” He watched as Sam moved from the table and retrieved his kit. He bit into his bottom lip as he watched Sam sink the needle into his skin, drawing his blood back into the empty syringe.

Once Sam had the syringe half full of blood, he turned his attention to Dean. “Are you ready?” he asked, waiting for his brother's response before he made any moves. After all, he didn't want Dean to get scared and change his mind. From what he gathered from their interactions, Dean was a little spooked that this was going to hurt him already. Sam didn't need to add to it by moving too fast.

Not breaking eye contact with his brother, Dean extended his arm. Slowly, Dean rolled up the sleeve of his Henley, moss green eyes locked on Sam's champagne hazels. “Do it,” Dean instructed once his shirt was rolled up to the elbow. “If I die, it's your fault.”

“You're not gonna die,” Sam assured his brother moments before he plunged the syringe into Dean's arm. He watched as Dean's face twisted into a look of pain, waiting for those black eyes to stare right through him again. Instead, Dean just yanked the syringe out of his arm once all of the blood was transferred and tossed it across the room. The first treatment was done. Only about seven more to go.

Angrily, Dean stood to his full height. Immediately, he started rolling down his shirt sleeve. “Are you happy now?” Dean spat out before he shoved past his brother. Fuck, that had hurt – Dean hadn't expected it to hurt that much. Sam was going to pay for that.

**~~**

Dean groaned in aggravation as he listened to Sam blabber on about those damn treatments he wanted to give him so badly. It had been a week since the last one, and Dean wasn't looking forward to another one. Hell, he was trying to get that last one out of his system still, but for some reason, it just wanted to cling to him like a crazy barfly who wouldn't take no for an answer. Sam's blood was strong – not that Dean was surprised by that. He was a Winchester, after all.

“Why is it always about those damn treatments with you?” Dean complained. “We just did one not too long ago. Can we talk about something else? For once? Please?”

He could see the anger and irritation on his brother's face, but Sam didn't care. He was sure Dean was stalling for something, and he wasn't about to find out what it was. He wanted his brother back. “Dean, it's been a week. If we had it my way, we'd do one every few hours,” Sam argued. “You said you were on board with this, Dean. So, let's go.”

Anger bubbled up inside Dean when Sam got demanding with him. _He_ was in charge here – not Sam. “I said we'll do this on my terms,” Dean reminded, his voice low and dark. “We'll do the damn treatments when I say we'll do them. You agreed to that. Remember, Sam?”

It was true – Sam had agreed to that. But he was getting antsy. On more than one occasion, he'd thought about just taking Dean into a room with a Devil's Trap and turning the tables. But he hadn't – Dean hated it when Sam didn't keep his word to him. And if something went sideways, Dean would be pissed. “I know I agreed to that,” Sam assured the older Winchester. “But Dean, I feel like you're stalling for some reason. I just want my brother back.”

Little Sammy, too smart for his own good. “I'm right here,” Dean explained, moving so that his hand was resting on top of Sam's. “I'm your brother. I'm just...different now. A little bit.” He frowned slightly when Sam pulled his hand away from him, surprised by the sting he felt in his chest. “You wanna do something fun, Sammy?” Dean smiled, shoving the memory of that sting out of his mind. “Let's go on a hunt.”

The idea of leaving this bunker with Dean put a bad taste in Sam's mouth. “You want to leave the bunker?” Sam asked, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Dean, we haven't even heard of anything that would be remotely our thing in the last week. What do you even wanna hunt?”

Just because they hadn't heard about anything didn't mean there wasn't anything around. Dean knew of a vampire nest just a few towns over. He'd been watching them with Crowley a while back. Sure, they hadn't done anything to him, but hunting some monsters sounded like a way better plan than sitting in this bunker arguing with Sam about becoming human again. “There's a vamp nest a few towns over. Let's go take care of it, Sammy,” Dean explained. “Please?”

Hunting with Dean again – just like old times. The idea was a nice one in theory. But this wasn't Dean – not really. And Sam didn't want him out of the bunker where he could disappear. Then again, Dean wasn't trapped in here. If he wanted to leave, he was free to do so. Only he hadn't. It was almost like Dean _wanted_ to be here. And Sam wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. “Yeah, alright,” Sam answered with a nod. “One hunt. And when we come back, you let me do a treatment. Deal?”

Of course Sam had to ruin the moment. “Fine,” Dean answered, smiling as he watched Sam walk down the hallway to his bedroom. Uncrossing his fingers behind his back, Dean reached for the beer he'd been enjoying, swallowing the rest of it down in one go. This was going to be so much fun.

**~~**

The warehouse was dark when they pulled into the parking lot. The sun was just going down, which meant the vampires were probably just waking up and getting ready to go wreak havoc on an unsuspecting population. Quickly, Sam shouldered his door open, moving to the trunk of the Impala to gather his supplies. 

As Dean got out of the car, Sam watched him closely. His eyes widened when Dean pulled out his weapon – The First Blade. Dean's face immediately changed when his blade was in his hand to something darker – something primal. Sam hated that thing. That thing was the only reason the two of them were here right now. “Dean,” Sam called out quietly, catching his brother's attention. “Are you sure you wanna use that thing?”

That was a stupid question. What the hell else was he going to use to obliterate these things. “Oh, I'm sure, Sammy,” Dean assured his brother, shooting him a smile. Without waiting for Sam, Dean headed to the door, kicking it open with inhuman strength. “Wakey, wakey!” Dean called out to the few sleeping vamps in cots. “It's the exterminator. Looks like you all have an infestation.”

By the time Sam got to the door, Dean had already taken out three vamps. Quickly, Sam ran into the room, slicing at the first vampire he saw. He made sure to keep an eye on Dean the whole time the fight was happening, unwilling to let the older man out of his sight. 

Watching Dean fight was almost mesmerizing. It was unlike anything Sam had ever seen before. Sure, Dean had always been a fighter – way better than Sam. But this was different. Now, it was like this was all Dean knew. Almost like when he'd come back from Purgatory. Only this was darker – again, almost primal. Like fighting was the only thing Dean lived for. It was scary.

Because Sam had been so focused on Dean, he didn't realize a vampire was right on him. When the monster's fangs sunk into Sam's throat, he screamed in pain, his machete flying across the floor as he reached for the vampire. His fingers grasped whatever he could reach, tugging at the thing's hair and scratching at its face with his short, blunt nails. 

Just as Sam was starting to feel woozy from blood loss, the vampire was ripped away from him. Immediately, he pressed his palm against the wound, applying pressure as he fell to one knee, his other palm pressing against the cold floor to help him maintain his balance. Slowly, he looked up at his brother, watching as Dean rammed his blade through the vampire's chest. 

Dean knew that the blade wouldn't kill the vampire unless it beheaded him, but he didn't care. Right now, all he cared about was inflicting pain. When he pulled the blade from the vampire's chest, Dean quickly shoved it in again, smiling maliciously when the thing screamed in agony. “You touch my brother?” Dean sneered, pulling his blade back again, only to shove it through the tender flesh of the vampire's abdomen. “I'll kill you. But first, I'll make it hurt. _Bad_.”

Unable to watch anymore, Sam used what felt like every ounce of strength left in his body to push himself to his feet. “Dean,” he breathed, moving toward his brother. When he got close enough, Sam placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, fingers digging into the older man's skin. “Dean, stop!” he demanded. “Kill it and let's go.”

Roughly, Dean shrugged Sam's hand off of him. He wasn't done yet. His entire body was vibrating – it was like he was high as the blade sliced through flesh again and again. However, when Sam grabbed him again, Dean snapped out of it, black eyes landing on Sam. Without looking, Dean beheaded the mangled vampire, shoving its body away from him. “You ruin all of my fun,” Dean accused, shoving past Sam and heading to the car.

This little outing was just another thing that made Sam realize that Dean wasn't who he used to be. His brother would have never done that. It didn't matter that it was a vampire. Dean didn't participate in overkill. Even when he was pissed off, he just got the job done. This Dean – he'd _enjoyed_ torturing that monster. And to top it off, he wasn't concerned about his bleeding brother. The Dean Sam knew would have been on him in seconds, making sure he was alright. But this imitation didn't even care that Sam was bleeding. All he'd cared about was using his blade on the vampire.

When Sam finally made it back to the car, Dean was already sitting in the passenger seat, just waiting for Sam. That was another thing that made Sam's skin crawl – Dean never wanted to drive anymore. Honestly, Dean didn't show any love toward this car – _his baby_. 

Once Sam had a bandage on his wound, he climbed behind the wheel and got on the road. He and Dean didn't talk the whole way back to the bunker, Sam only stopping once so he could use the restroom and grab a cup of coffee. 

**~~**

Back at the bunker, Sam finally broke the silence. “I'm gonna grab a quick shower, and then we can get started,” Sam explained, tossing the weapons duffel onto the table. When he heard Dean snort out a laugh behind him, Sam stopped in his tracks, turning to face the older Winchester. He barely caught himself on the table so he didn't fall over as his head ached and it felt like the whole room was spinning. “What's so funny, Dean?”

“You can barely stand,” Dean argued. “That vamp took a nice chunk outta you, Sammy. Don't you think you've lost enough blood for one night?” Dean hadn't even planned that one. He'd just been expecting to come back here and lock himself in his room so Sam couldn't find him, but this was so much better. This actually gave him an excuse.

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Dean, you _promised_!” Sam argued, fingers gripping the table a little harder. “I'm fine. I can handle this. So stop trying to get out of it.” He couldn't believe that Dean was doing this. As if Sam was going to let a little blood loss distract him from his current mission. Dean obviously didn't know him very well.

Shaking his head, Dean started walking toward the fridge. He needed a drink after that hunt. Alcohol calmed him down when he wasn't able to use his blade. “Yeah, well, that was before you went and got yourself attacked, Sam. I'm not gonna run the risk of you passing out after giving me a treatment. What if something happens?!”

Anger was slowly starting to creep into Sam, blocking out the pain he was feeling from his wound. “Dean, I'm not going to pass out. And even if I do, you didn't need me after the last treatment, so odds are, you won't need me after this one either.” Scoffing, Sam crossed his arms over his chest, still feeling a bit unsteady, but unwilling to let Dean see it. “What are you stalling for, Dean? Please, tell me. Because I'd love to know.”

Beer still in hand, Dean merely shrugged. “I'm not trying to stall,” he lied. “I just don't want to have to deal with it when you lose consciousness because you couldn't wait another day to shoot me up.” Taking a step closer to Sam, Dean reminded, “We're doing this under my terms, Sammy. And when I say no, I mean no.” 

He could see that Sam was about to argue with him, so Dean quickly changed tactics. His eyes raked over Sam's long, muscular frame, a flirtatious smile pulling at his lips. “Do you think you can shower on your own there, Sammy?” he asked, closing the distance between them. “I can come help if not. Make sure you don't pass out and drown in the shower.” His hand shot out to press against Sam's chest, feeling his little brother's muscles shift. “It's not like we haven't done it before after a bad hunt. It'll be just like old times.”

Quickly, Sam shoved Dean's hand off of him. “Don't touch me,” he warned, shaking his head. That was a different time. That was when Dean was himself. Not this thing parading around pretending to be Dean. “It was different then. You weren't a _demon_.” Sam spat out the word, noticing that his tone did nothing to phase Dean.

Dean could tell the blood in his system was finally fading away. Otherwise, that probably would have hurt his feelings. But right now, he didn't feel anything. He didn't care that Sam thought he was disgusting. Sam would get over it. He'd have to. And if he didn't – well, there were ways Dean could _make_ him get over it. Still, he wanted to play with Sam a little bit before he was done here. “Let me help you,” Dean suggested again. “You let me help you, and maybe I'd be more open to letting you help me, Sammy.”

Those words had Sam almost falling over for a completely different reason. What the hell was Dean getting at here? “You-You wanna shower with me?” Sam asked, licking his suddenly too dry lips. “Just to make sure that I don't pass out in the shower though, right?” Sam honestly wasn't sure with the way Dean was looking at him right now. There was something in those familiar green eyes that Sam had seen before – though the look had never been directed at him.

“I wanna shower with you, Sammy,” Dean assured the younger Winchester. “I just want to make sure you're not going to pass out. I mean, you think I'm all evil and I don't care about anything now that I'm a demon, but I don't want you to get hurt, Sam. You're still my brother.”

Honestly, Sam wasn't sure what Dean was playing at. He did know that he didn't trust him. Not this version of Dean, anyway. But if he was going to get to give Dean more blood just by letting him stand in the shower with him to make sure he didn't pass out, then Sam was all for it. “Fine,” he answered, slowly moving away from his brother and heading into his bathroom, Dean quick on his heels.

Once he was in the bathroom, Sam moved to turn on the water, feeling his head spin once more with the action. He wasn't sure if it was due to the blood loss, or the fact that Dean was stripping out of his clothes right behind him. Usually, when they showered together, it didn't phase him. It was all about cleaning the other so that no wounds got infected. But this time, Sam felt different – he wasn't sure what Dean was up to this time. And that kind of scared him.

When he had the water set to a temperature he liked, Sam stepped back, slowly removing his flannel shirt. He took his time getting undressed, knowing that when he was naked, he'd have to get into the shower with his brother. He felt Dean push past him, Sam grunting in pain when the impact jarred his whole body. Sam felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment when his eyes landed on Dean's ass, Sam quickly turning his attention to the floor. This was going to be awkward.

After a few moments, Sam knew that he couldn't stall any longer. Kicking out of his jeans and boxers, Sam stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind himself. The water felt amazing against his skin – he had it set to just the right temperature. Sighing, Sam allowed his muscles to relax under the spray. Forgetting that Dean was even in the shower with him, Sam turned toward the shower head, both palms pressing flat against the wall in front of him as he allowed his head to hang.

As Sam turned his back on him, Dean smiled, watching his brother lose himself in the soothing feeling of the shower. Sam always had been one to really enjoy his showers. Dean usually just showered out of necessity – only taking the time to enjoy it once and awhile. But not Sammy – he'd always been one to take too long, too hot showers. Not that Dean was complaining now.

Slowly, Dean moved closer to Sam, smiling once more when he realized the younger man wasn't paying any attention at all to him. He didn't stop until he was right behind Sam, one hand pressed against the wall on the opposite side of Sam's head. With his free hand, Dean grabbed the bandage on Sam's neck, ripping it off. Another smile came to his lips when Sam yelped in surprise, pressing their bodies closer together when he tried to move. 

Immediately, Sam remembered that Dean was in here too, and he tried to move, but Dean gripped his hip, keeping their bodies molded together. “Relax,” Dean breathed in Sam's ear, so close his lips brushed against the shell of Sam's ear. “You're not gonna get that wound cleaned out properly if it's all bandaged up.”

Sam's heart was slamming so hard against his ribcage, he thought it was going to beat right out of his chest. “Dean, let me go,” Sam ordered, struggling against his brother. However, when he felt the hard length of Dean's cock pressing against the smooth skin of his ass, Sam quickly stopped his movements. “Dean...I mean it. _Let me go_.”

“I said relax, Sam,” Dean reminded. His hand on Sam's hip tightened, grip hard enough to bruise as he pressed his face into the crook of Sam's neck, breathing deeply. “You said that I could help you. So let me. And stop fighting me at every turn. Unless you don't wanna treat me. I mean, I'm fine either way.”

Fear slithered through Sam's whole body when Dean spoke. In all of the times they'd been naked around each other, neither of them had ever gotten hard from it. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Sam choked out, “You said you were just gonna stand in here and make sure I didn't pass out.” Shaking his head, Sam continued, “That doesn't include you touching me. I'm not gonna pass out. I'm fine. Now let me go. Please?”

That hadn't been what Dean had said. “I said I wanted to shower with you, Sam,” Dean explained. “I never said I wasn't going to participate.” Slowly, Dean's tongue snaked out to lick water droplets off Sam's skin. “You wanna treat me?” he asked, free hand sliding down Sam's side to grip his other hip. “Let me have you first. Those are the terms. Take 'em or leave 'em.” Gently, Dean rubbed his cock against the crack of Sam's ass, eliciting a whimper from the younger man. “What's it gonna be, Sammy?”


	3. Chapter 3

_What's it gonna be, Sammy?_ The words rang through Sam's head, coiling around his body and sending chills up his spine. He couldn't believe what was happening – what Dean was asking of him. He had to be dreaming. This wasn't actually happening. But when Dean thrust against him, Sam knew damn well this wasn't a dream. “Dean...” Sam breathed, shaking his head. “Let me go. I...I need time to think. C'mon, gimme some space.”

Dean didn't know what there was to think about. Sam was so interested in making him human again, and Dean was giving him a way to do it. But for some reason, Sam wasn't taking the bait. “Don't make me wait too long,” Dean warned, shoving away from Sam. He rested his back against the far end of the shower, eyes locked on Sam as his brother turned to face him, chest rising and falling with each breath. Sam looked scared – Dean liked it.

Now that Dean wasn't pressed up against him, practically dry humping him, Sam could think. Dean wanted to fuck him. And if Sam allowed it, then Sam was allowed to treat Dean. It was a lot to process. But Sam could work with this. After all, it wasn't like he hadn't had sex with men before – he'd done it a lot in college. Before he'd met Jessica, he'd actually been experimenting with his sexuality. And once he'd had Ruby inhabit a man when they first started their fling, or whatever it was they were doing. So that wasn't the problem. 

The problem was this was his brother. And when he turned Dean human again, there was a chance Dean would remember this. And he knew Dean didn't want him – not like this. So there was a chance they wouldn't be able to get past this. And that's what had him hesitating. But he knew that Dean would want him to do whatever was necessary to get this damn demonic essence out of him. And right now, Sam was about to blow a perfect opportunity.

Mind made up, Sam tried to control his breathing. He didn't want Dean to think he had the upper hand here. “Let me get this straight,” Sam started, licking his lips once more. “You want to fuck me? Your own brother?” When Dean nodded, Sam could feel the color drain from his cheeks. “And...if I do this, you'll let me treat you?” Again, Dean nodded. “Really treat you, Dean? Not this bullshit where you make me wait for weeks at a time and argue with me about it?”

Slowly, Dean pushed away from the wall, closing the gap between himself and Sam. When the younger man tried to pull out of his grasp, Dean jerked, hard, forcing Sam to stop. “I'll make you a new deal, Sammy,” he suggested. “I'll let you do treatments on me whenever you want to. _But_...you have to let me have you first. However I want you.” Eyes raking over Sam once more, Dean coaxed, “Do we have a deal, Sammy?”

This was all so fucked up. Never in a million years did Sam think Dean would stoop this low. But he wasn't about to let Dean win this. “Fine,” he answered, swallowing back the sob that wanted to break from his throat. He wasn't going to let Dean see him cry. Maybe later, when he had his brother back, Sam would let him know how he felt about this. But not right now. “Just do it and get it over with.”

A deep frown came to Dean's lips when Sam jabbed at him again. “That's not how this works, Sam,” Dean argued. “I want you to enjoy it. It's no fun if you're not participating.” Using his grip on Sam's hips, Dean spun them around, shoving Sam into the wall before he trapped him there with his hands on either side of Sam's head. “Last chance to say no. If you're not going to do this the right way, then I'm not doing it at all. And I walk my fine ass right outta this bunker and never come back. Is that what you want?”

That was the last thing Sam wanted. Quickly, he shook his head. “How do you expect me to enjoy it, Dean?” Sam asked, obviously confused. “I don't...want you like this. You're my brother, Dean. I love you. But I'm not... _in love_ with you. And if you were yourself, you wouldn't want this either.” Biting into his bottom lip, Sam mumbled, “You're basically asking me to rape my brother.”

Dean gripped Sam's jaw roughly, forcing the younger man to look at him. “I _am_ your brother!” he spat, releasing Sam almost as quickly as he'd grabbed him. “Why do you have to do that? You're fucking ruining a perfect opportunity, Sam! Don't act like you're innocent in this. Don't pretend that you don't want this, too.” Smirking, Dean reached between their bodies, warm fingers wrapping around Sam's flaccid cock. “I've seen the way you look at me. When you let yourself slip. Forgetting that I'm a demon now. Don't deny it, Sammy.”

Heat rose to Sam's cheeks when Dean mentioned the way he looked at him. Yes, he'd caught himself staring a few times. But that didn't mean anything. Sam knew he couldn't have Dean like that. Not ever. But he wasn't blind. He could see that Dean was an attractive man. Still, it didn't change anything. “I don't look at you like anything,” Sam argued. “I used to look at you like you're my brother. But now, you're just a demon. One that I'm gonna cure.” Gripping Dean's wrist, Sam stopped him from moving his hand on his cock. “I said just do it. But you're not gonna touch me like that while you do.”

“Actually,” Dean argued, slapping Sam's hand away from him. “I'm going to touch you however I damn well please.” His hand moved to grip Sam's chin again, forcing the younger man's head up to expose his long neck. “If you wanna shoot me up with your blood, you're mine while I have my fun. That's the deal, Sam.”

Pain shot through the wound in Sam's neck, making the younger man gasp in pain. “Alright,” Sam gasped out, clenching his jaw when Dean finally let him go. “Fine, we'll do it your way.” Not like Sam had a choice in the matter. “What do you want me to do?”

A small smirk came to Dean's lips when Sam asked what he wanted him to do. “Nothing right now,” he assured the younger man. “I just want you to sit back and enjoy it right now.” That was the only warning Sam got before Dean leaned in, lips closing around his left nipple, sucking the nub between his teeth once it hardened from the attention.

Dean's hands slipped behind Sam's back when the younger man arched into his mouth, kneading against the hard, tight muscles there. Sam always was prone to back problems. Dean made a mental note to offer up a massage at some point in the future. Nipping at the bud between his teeth, Dean smirked as he moved on to lavish attention to it's twin. The water was getting chilly, so Dean wanted to speed this part along. 

After a few minutes, Dean pulled back, watching as Sam's chest rose and fell with each breath. “How does this feel, Sammy?” he asked his brother, nose nuzzling against the muscular planes of Sam's abdomen. “You want more, baby?”

No, Sam didn't want more. He didn't want this to be happening. But his body was responding to everything Dean was doing to him, and he couldn't stop it. Besides, he knew Dean wanted him to beg. Why the hell else would he ask him questions?! “Yes,” Sam answered, nodding slightly. “Keep going.” It wasn't like Dean was doing anything that Sam didn't like, anyway. Dean wanted him to enjoy it, anyway. 

He didn't need to be told twice. Sinking to his knees in front of Sam, Dean gently brushed his fingers against Sam's thighs. Leaning in, Dean licked a stripe from the tip of Sam's cock all the to the root, smiling when Sam's fists balled up against the wall. “How long has it been since someone touched you like this, Sammy?” Dean asked, just curious about the answer.

Too long. “Why does it matter?” Sam asked, biting into his bottom lip when Dean licked his cock once more. Dean was teasing him. “I-I don't know,” he finally answered, shaking his head. “A while. I've been a little busy focusing on other things.”

“Like me?” Dean asked, smiling widely when Sam merely nodded. “Good. Keep focusing on me.” Slowly, Dean took just the tip of Sam's dick into his mouth, sucking gently, just to tease. “I don't want anyone else touching you. Do you understand me?” Leaning in again, Dean took more of Sam's cock between his lips, tongue working around the hard flesh as his hand jacked off the lower part that wasn't in his mouth.

When Dean started working him with his tongue and his hand, Sam gasped, feeling his cock twitch under Dean's ministrations. “Yes,” Sam groaned out in response, one hand falling to land on Dean's shoulder. “Fuck...Dean...” His fingers gripped Dean's skin tightly, short, blunt nails digging into the flesh underneath them. “God...please?”

Hearing Sam's satisfaction had Dean growing impossibly harder. Taking as much of Sam into his mouth as he could, Dean swallowed around his brother's cock head, smirking when Sam's grip tightened. Quickly, Dean pulled back, kissing Sam's cock once for good measure before he stood to his full height. “Shh...” he muttered when Sam complained, gripping the younger man's hip tightly and forcing him to turn around.

Sam's hands shot out to catch himself on the wall before he face planted, his breaths once again panting out of him. “What're you doing?” he asked, cheek pressed against the shower wall as he tried to see what Dean was doing. He yelped slightly when Dean's soap slicked finger breached him, eyes squeezing closed against the pain. “Fuck...Dean...hurts...please?”

Again, Dean shushed Sam. “It'll feel good in a minute. Just relax,” he instructed. He slung his arm around Sam's front, pulling him so that his back was arched, giving him better access to Sam's body. After a moment, Dean crooked his finger, finding that bundle of nerves inside Sam that would make his brother go crazy. Sure enough, it did. “See?” Dean chuckled. “I told you it'd feel good.”

After a few more moments of Dean teasing Sam's prostate every now and then with his finger, Dean added a second digit alongside the first. There was some resistance, but once Dean reminded Sam to relax, everything went much more smoothly. Slowly, Dean started scissoring the digits inside his brother, biting into his bottom lip as he watched his fingers disappear inside Sam's perfect body. “You're so sexy, Sammy,” he breathed, mouth descending over Sam's shoulder to nip and lick at the skin there.

Finally, Dean added a third finger, wanting Sam to be as open and prepared as he possibly could be for him. “Feels good right, baby?” Dean whispered, rubbing his cock against Sam's thigh like a cat in heat. He wasn't going to be able to keep this foreplay up for much longer. He needed Sam so badly, he could taste it. 

A few more thrusts with his fingers, and Dean was ready. Quickly, he pulled his hand away from Sam, turning to shove the shower head in the opposite direction so the cold water wasn't hitting them. Without hesitation, Dean soaped up his cock, figuring that it was as good as anything for lube. “Make sure you relax, Sammy,” Dean instructed. “If I hurt you, we won't be able to do this for a while.” And that was just unacceptable. 

Sam did as he was told, remaining as relaxed as he possibly could. However, when Dean pushed into him, Sam tensed, teeth clenched together as his eyes squeezed tightly closed. “No...” he breathed, head shaking where it hung between his shoulders. “No, Dean, please, stop? I-I can't...please...it hurts.”

“Fuck...Sam, relax,” Dean ordered, one hand pressing against Sam's lower back in an attempt to make his brother stop freaking out. “Do you wanna get hurt? Dammit.” He could hear Sam begging him to stop, but there was no way he was about to do that. Not when he was right here – he was so close. All he had to do was give one good thrust, and he'd be buried to the hilt inside Sam. So, that's what he did, fingers gripping Sam's hips tightly as he pressed his front flush against Sam's back. 

When Dean buried himself all the way inside him, Sam cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He tried focusing on anything other than the pain he felt – he felt so full, and it fucking hurt. “Please?” he begged, not even sure what he was asking for at this point. He groaned softly when Dean's fingers wrapped around his throat, pressing on Sam's jaw as he nipped and sucked at the skin on his neck. Sam was sure Dean was leaving bruises there.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before Dean finally felt like he could move. Sam's body had finally adjusted to the invasion, and Dean was about to rock his little brother's world. Slowly, he pulled out, just a little bit before he pushed back in. “Feel good, Sammy?” he breathed, sucking the lobe of Sam's ear into his mouth. “Still hurt?”

Surprisingly enough, the pain had dulled quite a bit. “N-No,” Sam whimpered, shaking his head. “Dean...” When he said his brother's name, it came out as a choked sob. He didn't want this. And Dean didn't care. Dean had just kept going, even after Sam had told him to stop. He hated this – he hated _Dean_ for doing this. But most of all, he hated himself for agreeing to this.

Once Dean was sure Sam wasn't going to get hurt, he picked up the pace. His fingers tightened against Sam's hips, pulling the younger man back to meet each of his thrusts. Soft moans and grunts fell from his lips as he set a brutal rhythm, angling his hips so that his cock hit that sweet spot inside his brother with each thrust. “God, Sammy, so tight,” he moaned, biting the side of Sam's neck that hadn't been attacked by a vampire earlier this evening.

Dean could feel his orgasm approaching fast. One hand moved from Sam's hip to wrap around his cock, Dean wanting Sam to cum with him. When Sam's hand wrapped around his wrist, Dean _tsk_ ed quietly in the younger man's ear. “Don't even think about it, Sammy,” Dean warned, smiling when Sam's hand moved to press against the wall once more. “Just enjoy it. Let your big brother take care of you.”

Unable to hold back the sob that wracked through his body at Dean's words, Sam tried to focus on anything other than the fact that Dean was jerking him off in time with his thrusts. Sam didn't want to enjoy this – he didn't want to cum. But his body had other plans. And as soon as Dean ordered him to cum with him, hot spurts of semen shot out of Sam's dick, splashing against the shower wall in front of him. 

His knees felt weak as he felt Dean tense up behind him, spilling his seed into Sam's body. When Dean pulled back, Sam hissed in pain, fingers digging into the wall so he didn't sink to his knees. Again, when Dean gripped his hip, forcing him to turn to face him, Sam groaned. “Stop it,” he complained, feeling his body ache with each move he made. 

Now that Sam was facing him, Dean could see the younger man had actually been crying. Reaching for Sam's flaccid dick once more, Dean gathered the cum that still lingered there, sucking his fingers into his mouth before he moaned softly in satisfaction. “You'll get used to it, Sammy,” Dean assured his brother, cupping Sam's cheek. When Sam turned his head away from him, Dean shrugged, “Or not. Either way, you get what you want, so quit bitching about it.”

With that, Dean stepped out of the shower, leaving the bathroom to find some clean clothes – leaving Sam all alone in the shower. Slowly, Sam sank to the floor, hissing in pain when his abused body made contact with the hard surface. He wasn't going to get used to this. He'd never get used to this. He didn't want to get used to this. 

After a few minutes, Sam forced his body off the ground, standing unsteadily to his feet. He had work to do. Turning off the freezing cold water, Sam made his way to his bedroom. There, he pulled on a pair of comfortable sleep pants and an oversized hoodie. Rolling up his sleeve, Sam moved to his dresser where he kept his supplies. 

A small grunt escaped him when he thrust the needle into his arm, drawing back and letting his blood fill the syringe. This was all that mattered right now. He just needed Dean to get better – and he was going to do whatever it took to help him. He could handle this. He could do this. For Dean. After all, Dean had done so much worse for him in the past. He owed it to his big brother to be strong. 

_Let your big brother take care of you_. Sam shivered as the words rang through his head. He could do this. Pulling the needle from his arm, Sam rolled down his sleeve and headed into the kitchen. He found Dean eating leftovers that Sam wouldn't even have considered food. “It's time for you to follow through with your end of the deal,” Sam explained, holding up the syringe for Dean to see.

Much to Sam's surprise, Dean held out his arm without any complaints. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders when he plunged the needle into Dean's forearm and pushed his blood through Dean's veins. 

Everything was going to be okay. He was going to cure Dean, and everything was going to be okay. It had to be.


End file.
